Our Time is Running Out
by Joeybelle
Summary: After Scarif came the obliteration of Alderaan, the threat of total annihilation, the fight and victory against the Death Star. These had left Cora so shaken, that the news that some members of Rogue One might be coming back seemed unreal. While struggling to decide if she should open her heart and allow herself to hope, she realized she can't outrun her past. [Starlight Sequel]
1. Chapter 1

_Folks! Here we are: Starlight sequel._

_Some things to have in mind, it will have a bit of a different structure than Starlight so the chapters will be shorter, at least for a while. _

_There will be some back and forth between POV's, but it will still mostly be Cora's POV. _

_Shorter chapters don't mean that I write any faster, so beware of long pauses between updates because I'm a disaster. _

_I will probably add warnings at the beginning of every chapter but I will list some major ones for the whole fic below so if you find those things triggering, this might not be the fic for you. For a more detailed version of this, send me a message, or read the fic on Archive of our Own._

**_General warnings: Violence, Explicit Language, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Suicide Thoughts, Suicidal ideation, Suicide seen as a last resort, Foul language, Alcohol consumption, Self Medication and a lot of angst._**

**_Chapter warnings: Mentions of Self-Medication and Alcohol Abuse. _**

_I promise a happy ending at the very end. A true happy ending. Enjoy!_

* * *

The room looked empty. Most of the furniture was still in place, although Cora assumed they would remove it before they finished moving the base, but it didn't feel like home anymore. Her coffee table and collection of mismatched cushions was still there—and would probably never leave the tiny moon, she doubted anyone needed them—but all other personal effects had been packed or thrown away. It was disheartening how little she owned. She could fit everything in a large duffel bag and a medical case, and along with the things she was wearing, that was it.

Her mattress was still on the floor, in the corner of the room where she's been sleeping for the past few weeks, but she couldn't muster the strength to put it back in its place. They'll probably trash it anyway, if anyone bothered to check her room before leaving Yavin for good.

She took one final look around before she left. Ben the lichen was no longer on her desk and the tank had been scrapped. She'd placed Ben outside in a spot she deemed suitable, but she couldn't be certain of its survival. Jav Mefran was no longer there to help her out with it. She could only hope that the little bugger would find a way to survive, after all, it seemed to thrive in a prison cell and in an artificial environment, so he must have been pretty resilient. There was no way she could take him where she was going.

The automatic door closed behind her and she walked towards the elevator. The last time she'd do so. The dark corridors carried so many memories, but right now each of them hurt like a fresh wound. She stared at her shoes and didn't dare to look up as the elevator doors closed.

Last time she'd walked those hallways was with Lewella, a couple of days after the battle on Scarif and gotten drunk on what was left of Melshi's stash of jet juice. They also found a crate of expensive liquors labeled "The Good Shit. In case of death knock yourself out" in Melshi's messy handwriting and they laughed until they cried and cried until there were no tears left. Eventually, they fell asleep on the cold, hard floor and missed work the next day, but no one said anything about it. Only after the fact did they find out the base nearly suffered the same faith as Alderaan while they were still drunk.

She couldn't remember clearly how long ago that was, a month or two, maybe more, maybe less, she couldn't tell for sure. It was like time had lost its consistency and made no sense anymore. Ever since Scarif she'd been in a haze most of the time. That, when she wasn't outright breaking down, but she was trying to keep it together in public and do her job as best as she could.

She held out hope that they would make until the last moment; until the Death Star fired and almost wiped Scarif clean. She'd watched it on one of the screens in the War Room, where she'd gone after she finally regained the ability to move after Cassian's departure. No one had asked her to be there, but no one stopped her either. Even Draven blatantly ignored her presence. So she heard about it in real time. The battle of Scarif; the destruction of the fleet; the death and renewal of hope.

She was numb after that, barely functioning. Doctor Crane had insisted that she'd take a few days off once it was clear how affected she was and for the first time she agreed to take his advice. But then Alderaan happened, and everything changed.

The elevator came to a stop and she got off. There was a strange tension in the air, but not the kind that came before a fight. Moving to a new location kept everyone working around the clock. Cora had no idea where they were moving, she hadn't asked and no one had told her. They were all on a need to know basis, just in case any of them would be intercepted by enemies. The threat of the Empire striking still loomed over them. After all, they'd won a battle, not the war.

But Cora didn't really care either, since she wasn't going with the rest of them anyway. She was leaving for Naos, an important outpost at the junction of some key routes or something. She'd been told it was a straight hellhole, but it didn't bother her. Perhaps the shit weather would help her forget about the storm raging inside of her. For a little while, at least.

She bypassed the ER and went straight upstairs. Lewella had only been on base once since Alderaan and Cora had already said goodbye to everyone the day before in a rushed lunch get-together. Her colleagues were just as distraught as she was and goodbyes were now a lot harder than before, so she didn't feel like saying it twice. But there were still a couple of hours to kill before her ship departed, so she headed for the med bay upstairs.

"Doctor Crane?" she asked one of the med droids organizing tools in a container, seeing that the doctor wasn't at his desk.

"His presence was required in the War Room," was his monotone reply. Cora nodded and awkwardly stood by the window.

It was odd not being part of the med bay staff on Yavin anymore. She was going to miss it, she thought as she gazed towards the familiar outline of the jungle. Naos was a small, but hot planet, plagued by strong winds and unpredictable, volatile weather. No one wanted to spend any amount of time there, so they basically had to beg to get enough personnel to staff it. Cora had volunteered. She didn't care where she was going next.

She left the med bay a few minutes later, once the silence had become unbearable. She couldn't stay still very long, and waiting was still the worst. So she crossed the corridor, punched in the code and entered Cassian's room.

His scent surrounded her and tears started to gather in the corner of her eyes. She leaned on the closed door, breathing deeply, trying to keep it together. It took all her determination to turn on the lights and look around.

The room was mostly as he'd left it: a change of clothes thrown in a corner, showcasing the rush in which he'd left; an open box on the table with something missing from it; a pair of dirty boots near the bathroom door; the bed he hadn't slept in since their last night together.

Cora couldn't touch them. Although technically they belonged to her—he had no living relatives and she was deemed closest to him to inherit his stuff, making her wonder if Cassian had ever made their relationship official with the higher-ups—it was his stuff and she couldn't touch it.

At first she'd tried sleeping in his bed, but she couldn't. She thought she'd be able to feel close to him that way, make the ache in her heart dull a bit, but it was nothing but torture. There was too much of him around her and it only heightened the pain. That night she'd ran back to her own room, but she soon discovered she couldn't sleep in her own bed anymore either.

The nightmares weren't the biggest problem, although they were worse than ever before and they left her feeling exhausted. No, the good dreams were much worse, the dreams in which he came back, or never left, the dreams where he smiled like nothing had happened, and she woke up with the hope that maybe it's all just been a bad dream and he'd eventually come back. Those were the worst. Hope was the worst.

She'd eventually moved her mattress to the corner of her room, so whenever she woke up she'd instantly know that it hadn't been a dream, that nothing was okay and won't ever be. That, and she started self-medicating. Fortunately for her, she didn't even have to do it secretly, since everyone just popped sleeping pills like candy. It seemed like ever since Scarif everyone was at least half dead, so they did what they could to stay functional and there was no one left to judge them.

Eventually, she mustered the courage to stop being glued to the door and take a few steps forward. The fact that she'd only spent one night with him in that room didn't help either. Even being there felt like intruding into his space, felt a bit like trespassing. She didn't have the time to get used to being in his private quarters, and now she realized with a wave of dread, that she was leaving it all behind.

It hadn't sunk in that she actually owned all his things, from clothes to weapons to all the other things he might have had stashed. She hadn't looked through them yet and she doubted she ever would, even if she didn't have to leave. They were Cassian's and even though he wasn't here anymore, she doubted he'd approve of her snooping around.

Especially since he'd made it perfectly clear before leaving that she meant very little to him. Or, at least, not enough to want a future with her. But that didn't matter anymore either, because he was gone and she was mourning him like a lost husband. She was a mess.

She managed to sit on his bed before breaking down into sobs. Part of her didn't want to leave, didn't want to lose the small, familiar bubble where their relationship had bloomed. But they were moving to a new base anyway and soon this place would be deserted, so she'd decided to take the band aid approach and leave early, towards an unknown place.

The change of scenery would do her good, she thought. She was terribly conflicted between her wish to remember him and the need to forget in hopes of dulling the pain. The outpost had been damaged in a storm so now they had to repair and rebuild parts of it. As the only doctor on base, she hoped it would keep her busy enough not to think.

Cassian's bed still smelled of him. If she laid like that, eyes closed, face pressed in one of the pillows, she could almost imagine he was sleeping beside her. She could almost hear his breathing.

She jumped to her feet, the memory too painful to bare. She chastised herself for letting herself fall into that hole once again. People have real problems, Cora, she told herself as she went to the bathroom to wipe away the tears off her face. You've only lost a lover that didn't even care that much about you. Get yourself together!

The reflection in the mirror showed the ghost of the person that looked in the same mirrors a few weeks back. Even with a monstrous hangover and after an evening of ugly sobbing on Cassian's shoulder, she still looked better than she did now. Now she looked barely alive. She wasn't the only one, she reminded herself. After the fight on Scarif and the destruction of Alderaan, a lot of people on base had lost a loved one. Sunken cheeks and distant stares were the staple of the base nowadays. She sighed and turned off the faucet.

It was time to say goodbye. She willed herself to look around one last time, to confine it all to memory. She couldn't bring herself to take some of his as a memory. She just couldn't, even though she knew everything she left behind was going to get lost. The only thing she would be taking with her was the necklace with the only picture they had together and K2's crystal.

Eventually, she stepped out of the room. The door closed behind her and she felt like another chapter of her life had come to an end. She'd left the Empire not so long ago and built a life on Yavin, but now she had to leave this one behind as well. But this was life, she had to remind herself for the millionth time, and no matter how hard she clung on to things, they were always going to come to an end. Eventually, everyone had to die.

It wasn't just Cassian—although that was the part that hurt worse than anything and occupied her mind most of the time. She'd lost most of her friends on Scarif and the ones that were left were just as distant and traumatized as she was. She'd gained a couple of new ones, but those seemed to be part of a completely different life.

She glanced towards the med bay and was relieved to see Doctor Crane standing by his desk. He wasn't reading anything like he normally did when he had the time, instead he was gazing out the window with a faraway look in his eyes. The destruction of Alderaan and the subsequent loss of his family had taken a toll on him, his jolly demeanor now long gone.

"Ah, Cora!" he said, his face breaking into a weak smile. "I was looking for you."

"I was…" she gestured vaguely towards where she came from, but Doctor Crane nodded in understanding.

"You might want to take a seat for this."

Cora groaned, a pained expression crossing her face. "What's happened this time?" She didn't have the power to deal with any more death and destruction, but she diligently took a seat.

"Nothing bad this time," he said, taking a seat on the other side of the desk. "I hope," he added quickly, before clearing his throat and doing his best to flash her a hopeful smile. It was forced, but Cora knew he meant well. "We've got an urgent transmission from one of our squads. They got contacted on the short range comm by one of our ships."

Cora watched him anxiously as he seemed to debate whether to tell her or not. She knew she wasn't the most stable person on base, but it hurt that it seemed he didn't trust her anymore with sensitive information. Either way, she pushed the feeling deep down. It was her fault for being a bit unbalanced.

"We don't know for sure," he said with an audible exhale, and for a moment he looked even more tired than before, "not until our squad checks it out and confirms it—so I wouldn't advise getting our hopes up too soon, but…" He looked a little uncertain for a moment, but then he seemed to strengthen his resolve. "They got a distress message from Rogue One. From Cassian."


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: Sorry guys, I'm going though some stuff and I don't know when the next chapter will be out. Thank you for your understanding_

* * *

"They got a distress message from Rogue One. From Cassian."

"What?"

Cora's eyes widened and she could feel the colour leave her cheeks. She felt the same as she did when she got the news that they wouldn't be coming back. The same draining of emotions, the same shift in the universe that left her completely out of balance.

"They got a distress message on the short range comm. Said they had left Scarif with a defective ship and were asking for pickup." Doctor Crane scratched his unkempt beard. "They being Cassian, Jyn Erso and the imperial pilot, Bodhi Rook."

Cora had to close her eyes for a few moments and press her hands to her face, trying to convince herself that this was real life and not another very vivid hallucination.

"What's their status? Do they require medical attention?" she eventually asked, remembering protocol. Her voice was croaky.

The doctor looked amused. "We'll see when they get here. There is a medic on the rescue ship, and the message didn't sound particularly distressed… but we all know Cassian."

Cora nodded. It was a weird feeling. As days passed, she'd forced herself to think of Cassian in past tense, struggling to convince herself that he wasn't alive anymore. And now, all of a sudden, it wasn't the case. Her hands were shaking, so she forced them flat on the table surface.

"Will you join us in welcoming them?" asked the doctor.

"I… I have to leave," she said, trying to gather whatever was left of her composure. "My ship is leaving today."

Doctor Crane snorted. "They don't need you yet. They can handle a week without you. After all, there is no med bay set up yet, you'd have nothing to do."

"Accidents can happen, Doctor," Cora repeated what she'd told him the first time he opposed to her being assigned to that specific outpost; and then the next time; and the time after that and so on.

It wasn't a secret that what had happened to Alderaan had shaken the old doctor to the core. In the blink of an eye every living member of his family was gone. Just like that. Gone. They didn't have the opportunity to fight back, most of them never knowing what had happened. And the Doctor… one moment he had a family to keep him going and the next he was alone.

So it was easy to understand why he became twice as protective towards the remaining members of the med bay. They were the only family he had left. He'd been against Cora leaving to another outpost from the very beginning, and she had a lot of convincing to do before he gave her his blessing, accompanied by a melodramatic sigh. Technically she didn't need his permission, it was her decision to make, but she wanted his approval. He was her family just as much as she was sure she was part of his. So she did her best to convince him to let her go. To this day he still grumbled about it.

"A med droid will be able to handle that perfectly well," he said with a scoff and Cora smiled.

"Yeah, but I'll be much better at it. And besides, I'll be able to help with the setting up of the med bay. So I won't be completely useless."

The doctor looked at her with a piercing gaze, as if he was trying to read her mind. Or her soul. Cora wanted to tell him they were both screaming, but she knew he already understood.

"They might arrive on base before your ship is set to leave," he said, glancing at the clock.

"I'm technically relieved of my duties on this base," she said, trying to sound cheeky, but failing miserably.

"As if anyone cares about those kinds of formalities."

"Some do," she replied, looking down at her hands. She knew she was just making up excuses, but she was scared. Scared of getting her hopes up in case this was just another dream, scared of seeing him as hurt as she imagined him to be, of letting him see the state she was in. Scared of him giving her the cold shoulder once again. She wasn't even sure what frightened her the most. "Besides, I'd probably just be in the way."

"The moment I'll doubt your competence I'll kick you out of the med bay myself," he said, and Cora believed him. "But I didn't ask you to be there in your professional capacity."

Cora dropped her gaze. "That means I will be even more in the way."

"Cora…" The look of pity in his eyes almost made her choke.

"I don't…" She shook her head. "I need some air," she said, jumping to her feet, feeling like the room was starting to compress around her. "I really need some air."

Doctor Crane watched her leave the med bay, but didn't do anything to stop her. She walked briskly through the corridor, punched in the code and exited on the platform. The air was heavy with moisture, but it didn't come as a surprise anymore. The unpredictable weather on Yavin IV had become familiar and dear to her. After all, this was the most time she'd spent on a planet since she'd left that dreaded boarding school.

She was going to miss it, she thought, leaning on the damp stone wall and looking in the distance, at the sea of green treetops. She'd gotten so used to her life on this base that she'd forgotten that this was just a temporary home and its time had run out. They had to move on. She had to move on as well. Without Cassian…

But Cassian wasn't dead, she had to remind herself. This wasn't a dream, she hoped—sometimes the lines were even blurrier than this, but she could feel her nails biting into the flesh on her wrist—yet it still felt hard to believe. Just like his death was so hard to accept, his coming back to life was just the same.

She should have been happy about it. Hell, she should have been overjoyed, this was the answer to all her prayers in the past few weeks, but she was just numb. Maybe it was the medication, after all she was taking it to numb the mental anguish. She assumed it had left her completely desensitized.

Her hand went to her neck, where Cassian's necklace lay hidden under the fabric of her shirt. With surprisingly steady fingers she took it out and opened it to reveal the photo they had taken together on Samarkand. She hadn't touched it in a long time, she couldn't bear to see his face anymore. She only showed the picture to Leia on the night of the celebration, right after the Death Star had been destroyed.

Cora hadn't gone to the award ceremony, or the celebration that followed. She felt like she didn't have anything to celebrate. Yes, she was alive, but she couldn't really feel thankful for it. It would have been torture to go watch other people get medals, when more than half the work had been done by Cassian and the Rogue One team. Maybe they got their own medals, posthumously, but what good would that do?

Instead she spent the night with Doctor Crane and a bottle of 'the good stuff' in the med bay, and were later joined by a beautiful and royal looking—but just as shaken—Princess Leia. They looked back on their life until then, the people they'd lost, things they'd been through.

Doctor Crane had known Leia since she was very little, being a close friend of her parents'. Cora felt a little out of place at first, coming from a completely different world as them, but they made her feel welcome. Although reluctant at first to share her side of the story, she eventually opened up, despite fearing the same hostility she had faced from the members of the council when she had joined the Rebellion. But Leia didn't judge her for her upbringing or her family, nor for her role in the Empire.

Even when she got drunk and needed some air, Leia joined her on the platform and listened to her recollect her time spent with Cassian and the other rebels. She let her cry on her shoulder and also shed a few tears while the rowdy sounds of the celebrating rebels resounded through the night. A connection had formed between them that night, and if she wasn't sure Doctor Crane had adopted her the moment she stepped foot in his med bay the first time she left her cell, she was sure he'd done it then. They were family. Bruised and broken, these rebels were her family.

And some were coming back from the dead and she still couldn't believe it. Cassian was coming back.

Was he though? Was he really coming home, and if he was, what was he coming back to? Not to her, that much she was certain of. Besides, she wasn't much to come back to either, she almost retched looking at herself in the mirror.

So leaving wasn't such a bad idea after all. She needed space, she needed time to think. It took her so long to get her head around his death, it would probably take just as much to change it. A change of scenery would definitely do her good. Besides, it was just for half a year, after that they'd appoint her to the main base or another outpost. Maybe her heart would have the time to heal until then.

Cora stayed on the platform until the rain started picking up, then she sneaked inside, trying to avoid anyone she knew. Luckily, Doctor Crane was nowhere in sight, so she could go into the med bay to pick up her bags without having another awkward conversation. She took a peek at the clock and realized she'd lost track of time once again, and now her ship was about to leave. She hadn't even said goodbye properly. Well, it was too late now.

She left in a hurry, surrounded by people who seemed to also be hurrying outside for some reason. For the first time ever, the elevator was full to its capacity. She wondered where everyone was going, because she was sure the base wasn't going to be evacuated that day.

She watched them gather on the landing strip with curiosity. Were they waiting for something to happen?

"They're coming back!" someone said to her, their face breaking into the most dazzling smile she'd seen in a while. And then it clicked. Rogue One crew—or at least, what was left of it—was coming back, and they were going to be greeted as heroes. Cora stopped in her tracks, with the duffel bag flung over her shoulder and a medical bag in her hand, looking at the piece of gray sky, letting the rain fall over her.

Cassian was coming back. Cassian was finally coming back. After days and days of crying and begging, he was returning. It still felt like a dream. Hell, maybe it was a dream, but as always she hoped with all her heart that he was okay.

"So you've decided to join us after all," said Doctor Crane, patting her shoulder.

"My ship is leaving," she replied, wiping a tear as sneakily as possible. "I'd better go." The hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"They'll wait for a few minutes, don't worry about it," he said with a smile which was met with a worried look from Cora. "Listen, I'll let them know that you'll be here greeting them, I'm certain they'll understand. Besides, they'll probably want to see them return before they head out to Naos, there's no rush."

Cora looked along the landing strip where everyone was gathered. Ships were still taking off from other sides of the base, and she doubted everything would stop just because Cassian and two others were coming back. Eventually she nodded and smiled back. If anyone was able to get the ship to wait for her, it was Doctor Crane. And the least she could to was to be there to greet Cassian. She owed him that much. Despite her conflicting feelings, she had to do this. She'd have enough time to think the rest over once on Naos.

She took her place in the crowd without advancing to the front. She could see Aidan with his team of medics ready for anything that might need their attention, Mon Mothma behind them, looking as poised as ever. Leia was there too. Draven was away, as far as she could tell, and most of the council members had already left the base.

Minutes seemed to pass slower than ever. Cora kept looking at her watch, debating whether to stay or to go to her ship before Doctor Crane passed her oh his way to the team of medics, and winked. It didn't do anything to calm her nerves, but she did her best to stop fiddling with her watch from then on. At least she knew the ship would be waiting for her, so she could at least say hi before she left. However, she still nervously played with her tracker bracelet, the one she still wore by force of habit, not because she had to.

Oh, how much had changed since her imprisonment. How much she had changed since then.

It took a while until the murmur of the crowd was drowned by roaring of engines. Cora finally looked up to see one of their own ships landing. It wasn't the stolen cargo shuttle that had left for Scarif—it couldn't be, she realized, this had to be the rescue ship sent after them. She pressed a hand to her lips and waited.

The ramp opened to reveal a couple of crewmen, and then Cassian walked out. Cora's breath caught in her throat and the world started spinning. He was alive. Alive and almost well, judging by his limp and the more pronounced curve of his back. Nothing that couldn't be fixed with some surgical intervention and physical therapy, she thought before realizing it wasn't her job anymore. She was leaving. She was just Cora Enoch here to greet her ex lover who'd come back from the dead.

He was standing at the top of the ramp looking around with the same sharp look in his eyes. His hair was longer and unrulier than ever and his stubble had grown into a full beard. He had dark circles and his skin looked a little waxy, but he was alive. Alive and walking and breathing and… and safe.

But how long would it take until he'd do it all over again? How long until 'The Cause' would require him to sacrifice everything once again, to throw himself into the unknown, with no promise of ever making it out alive? How long until his luck ran out?

She couldn't do it. She couldn't. Not again, not anymore.

She couldn't go back to what had once been. From now on she knew she wouldn't be able to ever watch him leave without thinking that he'd never come back. She'd mourned him once, she was certain she wouldn't be able to do it again— she wouldn't let herself do it again. And besides, he'd made it clear she wasn't that important to him. If she had been in denial and didn't read that in his actions, his words before he'd left made it perfectly clear. What was the point of running to him only to be met with a cold shoulder? Or even worse, an embrace and a smile, only to be discarded once again when she'd be in the way. Cause she knew that's what she'll always be.

No, she wouldn't do it.

She was happy he was alive, as happy as her bruised soul allowed her to be, but she couldn't face him. She was too fragile, too unstable, too fucked up. She needed time to think. She had to get away.

Cora turned on her heels and almost ran to the other side of the tarmac, where her ship would be waiting.


End file.
